


Out of Left Field

by blondsak, seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: As it should be, College Student Peter Parker, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker is a Disaster™️, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter’s terrible horrible no good very bad day, a dash of some comics, and a huge helping of Peter Parker being a dumbass, defenestrating canon as is our right, sprinkle in a little MCU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24330025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Even if Tony didn’t end up becoming a big fan of the Mets, Peter knew they’d still have a great time at the game. And the fact that Tony wanted to go with Peter badly enough to make it clear that he should buy a pair of tickets as a birthday gift?Peter shakes his head fondly.Maybe for once the month of May was going to work out for him after all.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 79
Kudos: 225





	Out of Left Field

**Author's Note:**

  * For [floweryfran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/floweryfran/gifts).



> Happy birthday Fran!!!! We love you so much and hope you have the most fantastic birthday ;)

Of all the months of the year, Peter dreaded May the most.

For one, it was when the heat of summer began to really soak into the city, which in turn brought out a lot of the petty crimes that spent most of the winter and spring dormant.

For another, it was finals season, meaning that in between his various chaotic patrols Peter was busy cramming when he wasn’t running between the lab and class, with little time for things like sleep or food or other basic necessities.

And finally - worst of all - it was the month when for the past eight years, he had to figure out what to give Tony for his birthday.

And what _do_ you give the man who can buy himself literally anything? It was the annual question, and it’s not like Peter had ever been very good at gift-giving to begin with-- May remarking once that his seeming inability to prepare for his various loved ones’ Big Days wasn’t because he was incapable of being thoughtful, but because he agonized so much over what would be best that he never settled on a decision until it was too late.

She hadn’t been wrong, and as a result his typical gifts were usually made up of a hastily-made birthday card and something frantically chosen from the discount section at Things Remembered.

Though even that isn’t always foolproof-- Peter cringing whenever he thinks of the year Tony read aloud from the back of an engraved watch _For Tony Stank, the Best Mentor Ever_ to a crowd of seventy-five party guests. Rhodey still brings it up every time he catches Tony wearing it, to Peter’s endless embarrassment.

But this year, it seems fate is finally on his side-- though it figured it would come just as he’s laid up with not one but two broken ankles, courtesy of a run-in with Kraven and - to be more specific - Kraven’s vice-like grip. Even unable to walk, a morbid part of Peter really wants to know the man’s hand exercise regimen because wowzer, he could squeeze like nobody’s business.

In any case, when the brilliant idea for what to give Tony for his birthday in three weeks comes to Peter, he’s sprawled on a couch in the Stark’s penthouse with his casted feet propped up on a pillow, drinking juice from an old sippy cup of Morgan’s and watching the Mets on the big living room television.

It’s the top of the ninth and so Peter doesn’t even look up when the elevator doors _whoosh_ open.

“How the hell did you get all the way up here, gimpy? You walk on those too soon and I’ll have to push you in a wheelchair across ESU’s graduation stage in a few weeks.”

Peter shrugs, still not glancing at Tony as he replies, “If you really think I haven’t learned how to get around using just two crutches and no feet by now, that’s on you, not me.”

Tony sits down on the couch next to him, leaning forward to grab a handful of BBQ potato chips from the bag Peter had procured from the kitchen earlier, munching as he says, “Point taken. I’m mostly just surprised Helen gave you the go-ahead already.”

Peter glances at Tony just long enough for his mentor to catch the guilty expression before his eyes flit away back to the screen, Tony sighing as he says, “And you wonder why you never win the medbay nurses’ Superhero Patient of the Year Award at the holiday parties.”

“Joan and Lucas both have a crush on Bucky, that’s why. And anyway, I’m not a little kid,” Peter mutters petulantly, taking a long slurp from his sippy cup only to raise his eyebrows when he catches Tony’s skeptical look. “What? I know better than to leave the tower. I just wanted to go where there was a bigger screen to watch the game.”

“You mean watch the Mets get their asses handed to them by the Braves.”

“It’s about the journey, not the destination.”

“Spoken like a true Mets fan.”

They continue to watch in silence for a while, Peter already having lost all hope of a possible comeback after the second out when Tony says far too casually, “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a baseball game.”

Peter’s head swivels to look at Tony so fast he fears he’ll be in need of a chiropractor later even as he exclaims, “What? How? You’ve been to the Super Bowl like, twelve times! How have you not been to even _one_ baseball game?”

Tony shrugs. “I mean, growing up we had box seats at Yankee Stadium for appearances and business deals. But it’s not like dad was ever going to take me, and it wasn’t exactly Jarvis’ preferred sport, so-- I just never went.”

Peter shakes his head, still dumbfounded. “That’s-- I can’t believe you’ve _never_ been to a baseball game. It’s like, the quintessential American pastime.”

“And when was the last time _you_ attended a baseball game, Mr. Patriotic?”

This time it’s Peter’s turn to shrug, taking another handful of chips from the bag and replying, “Not since before Ben died, I think? It was kinda our thing-- he was a die-hard Mets fan.”

There’s silence again then, Peter looking over to Tony and not missing the way his expression had softened the same way it always did whenever Peter mentioned Ben, Peter quickly glancing back to the television even as he feels his cheeks heat up from the scrutiny.

“Would you want to,” Tony starts to say, only to pause before continuing, “Is it something you’d want to do again, sometime?”

“I mean, yeah,” Peter answers honestly, adding, “It’s not like I stopped going _because_ Ben died, not really. Things just got a lot more crazy with Spider-Man, and then the internship. And without someone to go with it wasn’t exactly on my list of priorities, y’know?”

Tony nods at this, letting out a deep breath and looking back at the television before saying, “I’d love to go with you sometime if you’re up for it.”

It takes Peter a few moments to process Tony’s words-- the Mets having just gotten handed their third out, ending the game before the bottom of the ninth could even be played. But when it finally filters through his eyebrows immediately furrow, turning to Tony as he says, “Do you really want to? I mean-- I figured it wasn’t your thing, if you’ve never bothered to go. Not to mention the games can get really long sometimes.”

Tony shrugs again, face blank as he lightly asks, “Do _you_ really want to?”

Peter blinks, confused as to why Tony is being so cagey all of a sudden. “I mean, yeah-- I’d love to do that with you sometime, Tony. Of course I would.”

“Good,” Tony says, still staring at the television, only to get up a few seconds later, wiping the chip residue on his pants and turning to Peter with an odd smile. “Well, I think I'm going to head down to the lab, repair that circuitry in your suit boots that asshole crushed and uh… maybe think more about how to celebrate the big day that’s coming up.”

“Okay,” Peter says carefully, watching with as Tony disappears back into the elevator. “Huh, wonder what that was all… _oh.”_

It hits Peter like a lightning bolt that Tony wasn’t trying to be cagey. He was trying to tell Peter that he wanted _baseball tickets_ for his birthday.

Even a few years ago, Peter might have been offended at the obvious assist. But he wasn’t above asking for help anymore, and especially not if Tony knew exactly what he wanted Peter’s gift for him to be.

Peter smiles, leaning back on the couch. Man, he couldn’t wait to take Tony to Citi Field. First they’d get a plate of Chocolate Havens from Wowfulls and then around the sixth inning go back for footlongs from Haute Dogs-- and then after the game, maybe Peter could show him the seats he and Ben had been sitting in when he’d caught Wright’s last foul ball back in 2012.

Even if Tony didn’t end up becoming a big fan of the game, Peter knew they’d still have a great time. And the fact that Tony wanted to go with Peter badly enough to make it clear that he should buy a pair of tickets as a birthday gift?

Peter shakes his head fondly. Maybe for once the month of May was going to work out for him, after all.

* * *

A few weeks later, Peter’s woken up from a dead sleep with the incessant buzzing of his phone, groaning as he shuts it off without looking.

“Pete. Wake up.”

“No,” He muffles into the pillow, rolling over and burrowing himself deeper into the covers. “I’m a burrito, I’m never leaving.”

“I thought you were a chimichanga?” She asks with a garbled mouth, Peter laughing despite himself as he lifts his head - seeing Michelle brush her teeth. 

“No, _Wade_ likes chimichangas and after last night, I don’t want to ever be reminded of him ever again,” Peter says, rubbing a hand over his face as he tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Michelle rinses and spits before wiping her mouth, walking back into the bedroom as she says, “I was wondering what time it was when you came in. I think I stayed up till 2am for my senior thesis and you still weren’t home by the time I passed out.” 

She laughs, Peter smiling as she starts to get ready, “I should’ve guessed you got roped into some bullshit.”

“How did you know?” Peter says with a smirk, sitting up in bed as Michelle puts on a shirt - shrugging as she looks to Peter.

“It’s _you_. You never seem to know when to quit.”

“And you love me for it,” Peter says, catching Michelle's eye roll and hearing the teasing in her voice as she says, “I _guess._ ”

She goes to the bedside table to grab her phone, Peter reaching over across the bed to land on her arm - gently tugging her down as he says, “Come on, play hooky with me.”

Michelle laughs, Peter smiling at the sound before she says, “Peter, it’s finals. You have a lab practical today.”

“Exactly. Perfect time for a little stress relief,” he says, wriggling his eyebrow in a way that he hopes is seductive but just makes her laugh even more.

“You’re ridiculous. Come on, I gotta proctor an exam for Dr. Meadows and I legitimately think Gwen would kill you if you’re late for the practical.”

Peter scoffs at that, putting his hand across his chest in a mock offended gesture as he says, “You think that my lab partner, Gwen ‘five-foot-nothing-and-wants-to-save-literal-actual-babies’ Stacy would _murder_ me?”

Michelle raises an eyebrow, “If you were going to be the reason she didn’t make it into med school? Then yeah, totally. Shit,” she laughs, “I’d help her hide the body. Gwen’s awesome.”

Peter makes a face before laughing, sighing dramatically before getting out of bed.

“Yeah okay, you’re right. She’s terrifying and we should all be glad she’s chosen to use her powers for good.”

Peter’s phone buzzes again, reaching for it as Michelle says, “Speaking of powers for good, maybe you can be the one to try and convince Happy that doing a full scale recreation of _The Princess Bride_ is actually a good idea for tonight. Morgan’s got her heart set on it and I don’t wanna be the one to disappoint her.”

“Tonight? For what?” Peter asks, scrolling through his messages on his phone.

He’s got several from Tony, a missed call and voicemail from Johnny and an email from Gwen attaching the lab practical study guide as some kind of semi-passive aggressive final reminder. But it’s the message from May that causes his stomach to drop, reading it over and over again to try and make sense of it.

 **May** : Don’t forget to text Tony HBD! See you tonight 😘

“For Tony’s birthday party?” Michelle says, Peter turning to her and feeling as if the world was turning in slow motion.

“No, that’s next week. The 29th.”

Michelle stares at him for a beat in confusion before it turns to concern, frowning as she asks, “Wait, how bad did things go last night? You know you’re not supposed to sleep if—“

“Tony’s birthday is the 29th,” Peter says more affirmatively. “Today’s the 22nd.”

Michelle blinks, shaking her head again before saying, “No, Pete. Today’s the 29th. Same day as your lab practical.”

Peter feels his hands start to shake, cursing himself for his lack of planning and for Wade’s last-minute call on patrol and anything else that prevented him being prepared for this moment.

He _knew_ Tony’s birthday was coming up, knew for the first time in years exactly what to get him - their conversation weeks ago coming back to the forefront of his mind.

“Pete, are you sure you’re okay—“

“I’m fine,” Peter squeaks, “I— shit, I thought I had another week. What time is it? I gotta go, I gotta find Tony a gift—“ 

He starts to scramble, making a mess of their bedroom as he starts to get ready - Michelle asking, “Peter, what are you talking about?”

“The _tickets_ , MJ. The tickets I was gonna get Tony? For his birthday?” he says frantically, Michelle nodding again as she says, “Yeah? I thought you got them last weekend when…” 

She trails off, the realization dawning on her face as Peter starts to nod, feeling panicked as he says, “When I went out for groceries and ended up fighting Rhino in Greenwich?”

“Shit,” Michelle says, Peter running his hands through his hair, “Can’t you just order them online?”

“No, not unless we have an extra two hundred bucks in the bank that you didn’t tell me about,” Peter says, Michelle pursing her lips as he explains, “When I checked online two weeks ago, all the cheap seats available online were sold out for the next month because Ruiz is retiring at the end of June. That’s why I had to go get them at the stadium, for the discount. But even those were nearly gone two weeks ago-- they’re _definitely_ sold out now.”

Peter groans in frustration, throwing his head in his hand as he mutters, “God, I’m such an idiot. This was the one time, the _one time_ I was finally going to be able to surprise him and— it’s official, Parker luck is out to get me.”

“Wait. Parker luck, that’s it.”

Peter glances up, seeing a hopeful expression on Michelle’s face as she says, “Didn’t you and Ben used to get tickets to games all the time?”

Memories of waiting outside of the arena at the butt-crack of dawn come flooding back to Peter then, a baseball ticket lottery that he and Ben used to wait outside for hours on Fridays and Saturdays - seeing Ben’s warm smile in his mind’s eye and the remembering how lighthearted and carefree his days then had been.

“MJ, you’re a genius. I love you, have I ever told you how much I love you?” he asks, Michelle smirking at him as she says, “You could do with telling me more.”

Peter kisses her - quick but full of meaning before leaning out of it, a smile on his face as he grins.

“I love you. You’re a genius. I’m gonna go get some tickets.”

* * *

Peter’s shoulders sag with relief as the ticket taker hands him the envelope, moving to put the shutters down as he says, “Enjoy the game, son.”

“Thank you sir, I absolutely will,” Peter says with a smile, catching the confused look on the ticket taker’s face.

They were nosebleeds, the kind of cheap seats that Ben would’ve said only a _goyim_ would fall for but Peter couldn't bring himself to care - too relieved that he’d _actually_ gotten to the arena in time to grab any tickets at all, knowing his luck.

He swings around his backpack, shoving them in for safekeeping and going to zip it only for the backpack zipper to catch - Peter’s inhaling sharply when he sees the slight rip on one of the envelope's edges.

“Oh shit,” he says, carefully balancing the backpack, the zipper and the envelope and untangling it - letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when the envelope comes out relatively unscathed. 

The corner is jammed slightly but for the most part, it looks okay - Peter sighing in relief as his phone starts to buzz.

He puts the envelope inside, being more mindful as he zips it up and grabs his phone - seeing Gwen’s name pop up and the text that follows.

 **Gwendy** : The practical is in forty minutes so help me, Parker you CANNOT be late.

Peter smiles, swinging his backpack over his arm before tapping out a reply.

 **Peter:** Wouldn’t dream of it Gwendolyne.

He laughs when he sees her reply, one single emoji flipping him off as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. 

The day had started off rough but Peter just shakes his head, making his way to the subway stop that’ll take him to ESU’s campus.

It could only go up from here. 

* * *

“And as you can see, when we solve for the rate law at steady state in terms of the total concentration of chlorine present then we can—“ Gwen’s voice starts to drift off for Peter, his mind wandering as he smiles at the professor. 

Dr. Connors wasn’t a difficult man but he was exact - glad now that even if he’d somehow gotten his dates mixed up that Gwen had enough of a brain cell to harass him for his portion of the lab report weeks ago.

There weren’t many things he’d miss about college but Gwen - and her exacting, meticulous schedule that kept him up on his toes just as much as it terrified him - would be one of them.

Gwen finished her statement, Peter taking the cue as he turns to the class and asks, “Any questions?”

It was common lab procedure for someone to ask at least _one_ , part of the grading process for them just as it was for the presenters.

But Matthias and Jay before them had gone on way too long, Peter glad once again that he had Gwen as a partner for keeping him on track as Dr. Connors says, “I’m afraid we don’t have time for questions today but excellent presentation. Everyone give a hand to Gwen and Peter.”

The class claps politely, just as ready to be done with this three hour examination - a mix of paper exam, actual lab practical and presentation of a report - as Peter was, Dr. Connors saying, “I’ll have your grades posted by the end of the week. Thank you for a wonderful semester.”

He nods once before turning towards the door. As soon as he leaves, the whole class sags in relief - Gwen even more so as she works to take their USB drive out of the computer.

“And so we end pchem 2 not with a bang, but a whimper,” Peter quips, catching Gwen as she rolls her eyes and says, “Yeah, no thanks to you.”

“Hey, I did my part.”

She stares at him, Peter thinking she was more intimidating than the rhino idiot he’d fought last week as he amends, “Well, most of it.”

Gwen eyes him up and down, the faintest smile on her face before saying, “You actually weren’t a complete disappointment, Parker.”

“Thank you?” he replies, his tone being enough to get an actual smile out of Gwen as she says, “I mean let’s be honest, you would’ve been lost without me.”

“Totally lost. Adrift at sea with no compass or lighthouse to guide me,” Peter says dramatically, hands clutched over his heart as Gwen rolls her eyes.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Au contraire my darling Gwendolyne,” he says with a smirk, seeing the frown on her face, “flattery will get me _everywhere_.”

“God, are all pretty people this annoying or is that just you?” she snaps back, Peter grinning at how easily they fell back into the banter they’ve had since freshman year - hoping she’ll stay in touch with him when she moves on to bigger and better things as he asks, “You think I’m pretty?”

“You have to be, why else would MJ date you?” Gwen says with a wicked grin, Peter laughing as he shakes his head.

“ _Ouch_. That’s hurtful but also kind of true?” He sighs dreamily, plopping down on their lab bench as everyone starts to pack up, “I don’t know what she sees in me.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Gwen says with a smirk, only for her eyes to widen.

Peter takes in her expression triumphantly, smugly asking, “Oh you’re changing your mind? Converted towards the wiles of one Peter Parker?”

“No you dumbass, Thompson knocked over a beaker.”

Peter turns, seeing Flash frantically try to use some KIM wipes to clean up the mess - only for his own eyes to widen when he sees the mixture making its way to his backpack.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Peter mutters, scrambling over and wrestling it out from the path just seconds before it makes it there.

Peter immediately zips open the bag before sighing in relief, the envelope with the tickets still safe and sound as well as everything else - glad once again that his backpack’s hidden compartment could hide his suit. 

He zips it back up before going to help Flash, his old classmate groaning as he says, “I _got_ it.”

“No,” Peter says, grabbing some paper towels from Wei-Suh’s lab desk, “I don’t think you do. How the hell did you miss this during clean up?”

“Whatever Parker, are you gonna help or what?” he says, Peter guessing from the way he’s cleaning things up that it’s _not_ actually dangerous to do so - his senses muted as he looks back to Gwen, raising his eyebrows at nodding for her to come help too.

“What? I have a final for Lit and Law to get to,” she says with a shrug, grabbing her messenger bag as Peter makes a face.

“How you managed to double major in English and Biology _and_ minor in French and Philosophy without dying is beyond me.”

“ _Toute le monde n'est pas aussi stupide que vous_ ,” Gwen says with a smile, Peter unsure of what she just said but knowing it couldn’t be anything good as she waves.

“See you around, Peter. Tell MJ I said hi,” she says before turning and walking out of the classroom without looking back.

“Fucking figures,” he hears Flash mutter, Peter turning his attention back to him.

“What?”

“First MJ, now Gwen? Is there _anyone_ who doesn’t love you?”

“You, my dear,” Peter says with a wink, Flash making a gagging noise as Peter swings his backpack over his shoulder - lab practical complete and Tony’s tickets safe and sound. 

“Come on, let's get this cleaned up so we can go.” 

* * *

“And then he said, ‘you know son, I think you need to start taking on more responsibilities’ all hard and shit like? Come on old man, I’m not interested,” Harry says in a rush, Peter humming noncommittally as he shoves a french fry in his mouth.

“And it’s not like I _don’t_ want to take on more, it’s just, not _now_ you know? Gap years are important. I like gap years. Don’t you think I should have a killer gap year?” Harry asks, Peter slurping up his drink through a straw as he nods.

“Uh huh, yep. Absolutely killer. Your gap year would murder everyone else’s.”

“Damn right it would,” Harry says with a smile, Peter grinning back at him as Harry says, “Wait, I’m sorry dude. I’m making it all about me and this is supposed to be about _you_.”

“Huh? Why?” Peter asks, Harry nudging him suggestively. 

“I mean you and MJ, man.”

Peter blinks, freezing for a moment to wonder if he’d forgotten _MJ’s_ birthday too when Harry asks, “Aren’t you gonna pop the question?”

Peter nearly chokes on his drink, setting it down so hard that a few people glance back to him - eyes bulging out as he wheezes out, “ _What_?”

Harry shrugs, grabbing his own drink as he says, “I mean you guys have been on and off since high school? You’ve been back together for what, two years now? Plus you’re graduating and--”

“Yeah, Harry. _Graduating_ ,” Peter replies, feeling his heart rate start to slow and yet inexplicably feeling like he can run a marathon at the same time, “We’re _barely_ thinking of getting a plant. I don’t-- we’re not ready for…”

Peter shakes his head, Harry looking at him with an amused expression as Peter says, “You can’t do that to me, man. I’ve had a shitty day to begin with.”

Harry shrugs again, waving his drink around. “My mom and dad did it, got married straight out of college.”

He grows quiet then, Peter feeling a wave of empathy for the sadness that passes over his friend’s face when Harry says, “I know my old man’s… not the best. But he was, once upon a time. Him and my mom were really happy, you know?”

Harry forces a smile, looking back to Peter with the kind of practiced expression that only comes from wearing a mask your whole life - a feeling that Peter understands in more ways than one as he says, “Kind of like how you and MJ are.”

“Thanks,” Peter says genuinely before leaning forward, “But dude, come on. We’re twenty-two. You _really_ think that’s old enough to get married?”

Harry considers it, eyes narrowing before his face breaks out into a grin. 

“You’re right, get a plant first. See if you kill that first before you kill your first marriage.”

“First?” Peter asks incredulously, Harry nodding as he winks.

“Clearly, since MJ’s gonna eventually divorce your ass and shack up with me.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Peter says with a grin, Harry picking up his burger as a comfortable silence falls between them. 

Harry had been there for the first breakup, one of his first friends at ESU aside from Gwen - taking him out on the town and breaking down any kind of assumptions he could’ve had about the son of the man who had inadvertently given him powers that kept him up at night - literally and figuratively.

Peter chews the inside of his cheek, knowing that he’ll miss these lunches when Harry jetted off to whatever part of the globe his heart desired - hoping that when Norman’s own late night activities finally caught up with him that Harry wouldn’t be anywhere near the city. 

It nudges at him again, wondering if he should bring it up only to shove it aside - less because he doesn’t want to deal with that particular conversation and more because of what he sees out of the corner of his eye - a pigeon walking up under the table they’re at and pecking at his open backpack.

“Hey, get out of here,” Peter says, nudging at it with his foot only for the pigeon to find its intended target - Peter’s eyes widening when he sees the white envelope it’s snatched out of his backpack.

“Fuck, no. Wait, get back here!” he yells out, Harry looking up at him in surprise at Peter leaps over the divider from the street - the pigeon waddling a bit before it tries to fly, weighed down by the tickets.

If there was ever a time that Peter had considered exposing his identity, it was right then and there - wondering if he should grab his web shooters and risk it all when the bird lets it go, Peter sighing in relief only to hear Harry yell out, “Pete, watch out!”

Peter’s senses scream at him, leaping backwards just as a truck passes by - Peter barely avoiding getting hit only for his stomach to drop when he sees the envelope attach itself to one of the muddy wheels.

“Wait! Stop! Wait!” He calls out, running after the truck - keeping an eagle eye on where the envelope was, knowing how ridiculous he must look.

The truck driver must see his hands flailing about, rolling to a stop as Peter runs forward - snatching the envelope from one of the tire grooves.

It’s mangled and dirty but everything inside is still clean and intact - Peter letting out a massive sigh of relief as he walks up to the passenger side, waving to the driver and saying, “Thanks!”

The man just looks at him like he’s gone off the deep end, Peter looking back to where Harry is staring at him with an incredulous expression on his face, just barely catching him mouth the words, “What the fuck?”

This was the third time in a row that Tony’s gift had been put at risk, Peter feeling as if this was some kind of sign from the universe.

Peter pushes that away as he exhales, making his way back to where Harry is - holding the envelope tight in his hand. 

* * *

Peter’s still feeling a little jumpy from the near-miss at lunch, shaking himself out as he walks up the steps of the library.

He has another few hours to kill before the party, hours that for any other day he would’ve taken advantage of and patrolled.

But considering how close he’d just gotten to losing the tickets yet again, Peter decides to take a page out of Gwen’s handbook and set aside some time to study - remembering with a grimace the biochem report he still hadn’t turned in.

Peter makes his way through the library, packed and full of anxious, caffeine driven students as they crammed for their upcoming exams.

He settles into a cubicle right next to a guy who’s asleep - passed out over his laptop, three cans of Red Bull all within reach.

Peter can’t bring himself to pity him when he knows that if he doesn’t get this paper done, that’ll be him for the next week. He sends a quick text to MJ to ask her how the exam went before he starts to set up, bringing his dinged up laptop out of his backpack and getting to work.

Five hours of focused work later, he’s just sent in his biochem report - checking the time and seeing that Tony’s party is set to start in a half hour - only to freeze when he feels the familiar itch down his neck.

 _Fuck, not today_ , he thinks only to glance up when he hears it - glass shattering as a man in a souped-up green suit and glorified hoverglider crashes through the window. 

Peter hears the maniacal laughter and then the screams of the students around him, grumbling as he shoves his laptop back into his backpack - wondering when the universe would finally be kinder to him instead of sending him on what he knows will end up being a wild goose chase. 

That feeling only becomes magnified when he hears _another_ familiar voice, the rush of heat flowing in and a dark orange flame that he’d recognize anywhere as the voice calls out, “Heeeeere’s Johnny!”

The Green Goblin just roars at him, going to throw off some kind of bomb when Johnny dodges it - doing a barrel roll and sending out some flames from his hands. 

The bomb goes off against the wall, thankfully missing the students who just _barely_ got out of the way - but Peter knows he’ll have to get into the thick of it, not if Johnny and Goblin were going to continue to play hacky sack with explosives. 

He feels Johnny’s flames overhead, glancing up to see Johnny smiling down on him as he says, “Oh hey Pete, how’s it hanging?”

“Just fine, _Torch,_ ” Peter hisses, glad that there wasn’t anyone else around him just as Johnny seems to recognize his slip-up, “Why are you messing with Goblin?”

“Well, someone has to,” Johnny says with a shrug, Goblin’s laughter coming closer and closer, “considering _Spider-Man_ wasn’t already out there.”

Peter grimaces, pressing his lips firmly together as he grabs his backpack - any chance of making it to the party on time gone to hell now.

“Give me five minutes.”

* * *

It takes less than three for Peter to get suited up, his body working on autopilot to get out of regular clothes and into the suit - only for Johnny to lead Goblin out into the street just as he finishes webbing up his backpack.

“Spider-Man!” Goblin yells out, “we meet again!”

“Hello dude," Johnny waves, "right here. Been fighting you for twenty minutes. Could at least show me a little—oof!”

Johnny flings himself to the side as Goblin hurls some mini gliders at him, Peter swinging into action as he propels himself forward.

“Listen Gobby, I got shit to do. Are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?” he asks, landing straight on him - swinging around till he’s got Goblin in a chokehold.

Goblin lets out a yell, the glider twisting in mid-air only for Peter’s senses to scream as darts shoot up from the platform - Peter backflipping off the glider and swinging out of the way.

“Hard way, got it,” he says, mostly to himself as Johnny flies back over - sending a shot of fire towards one of the glider’s hover mechanisms.

“Take _that_ , greenie!” Johnny says with a smile, having the audacity to wink at Peter as he rolls his eyes under the mask in response.

“Can we keep the dramatics to a minimum, Storm?” Peter asks as he sends off a taser web, Goblin shifting out of the way as he throws another bomb towards him.

Peter webs it up as quick as he can, the bomb exploding inside the enclosed webs as Johnny says, “Bold words coming from _you,_ web-head.”

“Get bent, Johnny,” Peter says playfully, Johnny smirking at him as he sends off another shot of fire towards Goblin’s glider - Peter sending a web bomb that makes it start to wobble in mid-air.

In a fit of rage, Goblin throws out another bomb but not to Johnny or Peter - instead aiming towards the library, Peter’s head snapping to where a group of students were standing and watching the fight, just around the corner from where his backpack was webbed up in the side alley.

“Get away!” Peter yells, swinging himself forward to move them out of the way - barely grabbing them in time.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” one of the guys says, Peter gently releasing them down to the ground as he shouts, “Get out of here, go!”

They do as they’re told, Peter glancing back to the alleyway between the library and another building where his backpack was - his senses still screaming at him but focused now on where the bomb had gone off, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach growing as he runs forward.

It’s just as he expected, skidding to a stop and feeling his shoulders sag in relief - the webs having mostly protected his backpack but for a few burnt spots, Peter turning around to face Goblin once again when he hears Johnny yell, “Look out!”

Whether it was the exhaustion from everything that had happened, the adrenaline finally running out or what - Peter’s completely blindsided by another bomb flying toward him, having only seconds to jump out of the way. 

It’s not quick enough to get out of the blast radius - Peter being thrown back, hitting the pavement _hard_ before feeling nothing at all. 

* * *

The first thing Peter registers is the grating sound of lip-smacking chewing noises, nearly letting himself fall back into the darkness until a loud hum of approval brings him to full awareness, blinking one eye open to see the tower medbay ceiling above. The pain hits him then, his whole body feeling like it’s been hit by a bus for the second - no, _third_ \- time as he tries to remember what happened, everything still fuzzy in his mind.

“Ow,” he groans out, whoever is next to him suddenly setting down whatever’s in their hands and leaning over Peter.

“You with me, kid?” Tony asks, Peter wincing as the sound of his mentor’s voice assaults his ears only for his attention to be taken by the cone-shaped thing on top of Tony’s head-- vision slowly turning less blurry as Peter tries to focus.

It’s a metallic red party hat, he realizes, Peter still confused as to why Tony would wear such an odd accessory until his brain registers the words that are plastered across the front in gold glitter: _100% THAT birthday bitch._

With a start, everything - Johnny, Goblin, the bomb he wasn’t quick enough to dodge away from - comes rushing back, Peter’s eyes going wide as he starts to rise.

“Whoa kid-- stop, _stop,_ ” Tony orders, putting both hands on Peter’s chest and gently pressing until Peter lays back down. “No getting out of bed yet, Cho’s orders. That blast gave you a nasty concussion.”

“But-- your party,” Peter argues, throat so dry he starts to cough, “You shouldn’t-- I need to--”

“You don’t need to do anything but stay right where you are until you get the all-clear,” Tony says firmly, sitting back down in his chair.

“And anyway,” he adds, picking up a plate which has a half-eaten piece of some kind of chocolate cake on it and waving it in Peter’s face, “I brought the party with me, see? Harley sent the hat-- there’s a matching sash too, but I made Rhodey put it on. It’s my birthday, I can be a little bossy if I want to.”

Peter doesn’t make a quip in response to that comment like he normally would, guiltily saying instead, “I’m really sorry, Tony. Johnny needed my help and then I got distracted when Goblin nearly hit my backpack with a bomb and--”

He’s interrupted by Tony moaning in ecstasy as he takes a big bite of his cake-- Peter now spying the large pastry box on the bedside table, the logo on the side reading _Bundt Naked Cakes._

Tony finishes chewing before staring hard at Peter as he does an exaggerated swallow and saying, “Do I look or sound like someone who’s put out right now, huh? Quit your apologizing, Pete-- I don’t need it. I got my party hat and my cake and my wayward mentee, so I’m good. Plus everyone was having a great time dancing upstairs when I left. If you want proof, I took a video of Morgan harassing Sam into doing the funky chicken. Way more entertaining than any of his usual bird moves, if you ask me.”

Peter bites his lip, trying hard to hide the overwhelming guilt that still threatens to claim him. He must not do a very good job of it because Tony sets down his plate again with a sigh, before smiling at Peter and saying, “Did I hear you mention your backpack? Cause I got it right here, courtesy of our feathered friend himself.”

“You do?” Peter asks, Tony’s grin widening at the hopeful tone in his voice as he leans over, lifting the bag up-- or well, what used to be a bag, Peter realizes in horror.

“Oh no, no no,” he says, making grabby hands at it desperately-- trying to open it as soon as Tony hands it over, only to rip it open when he realizes the plastic zipper has completely melted together. 

Crestfallen, Peter plucks out the cursed envelope, groaning and letting his head fall back when the burnt paper crumbles in his fingers, half of it falling down into his lap. The relief at seeing his laptop case looks mostly okay doesn’t help his disappointment, and he sets the backpack down on the ground only to raise an arm to his face, covering his eyes. _“Fuck.”_

“What’s that?” Tony asks, plucking up the remnants of the envelope from the bedsheets. “This uh, wasn’t something important I hope? Not your social security card or anything, was it? Oh god, was it your marriage certificate? Please tell me you and Michelle didn’t go and get hitched before I could poke my nose into the wedding planning.”

“God, not you too,” Peter moans, arm still covering his eyes when he continues mournfully, “and no-- it was your birthday present. I just barely managed this morning to score those Mets tickets you asked for, only to spend _all freakin’ day_ having to protect them, and now-- now they’re gone anyway and everything I had planned to surprise you with is totally ruined and--”

At the sound of Tony giggling Peter stops abruptly, lifting his arm and saying petulantly, “Seriously? I’m the middle of a damn eulogy for your birthday present right now and you’re just laughing? Awesome, that’s just _awesome.”_

If anything Tony’s giggles get louder, wiping at his eyes and catching his breath, saying, “Kid, I think we might’ve gotten our wires a bit crossed. I didn’t want you to get me baseball tickets for my birthday-- I wanted to get _you_ baseball tickets for your graduation.”

Peter’s eyes go wide, his arm dropping to his side. “What? But back at the penthouse, when we were watching the game, you said--”

“I was trying to figure out if getting you tickets as a graduation gift would be something you’d actually want to do with me,” Tony explains. “You’re always telling me not to do anything flashy for you when it comes to gifts, and I figured baseball tickets would be perfect-- but only if you felt ready to share that again with someone who wasn’t your uncle.”

Peter nods, the fog of his lingering concussion preventing him from being as quick on the uptake as he’d normally be. “I mean, yeah, I am ready. And they would be. Perfect, I mean.”

Tony nods back appreciatively, before plucking up his phone and pecking something in, turning it around so Peter can see the screen. “See? Bought us two tickets to the Mets game on the first. I was gonna surprise you with them tomorrow.”

Peter huffs out a laugh. “I uh, I got tickets to the game on the first too. These are way better seats though.”

Tony smiles, setting his phone back down. “See? Nothing’s ruined, just a bit of miscommunication-- something Pepper tells me I excel at. Speaking of-- this is my bad, Pete, not yours. I should have figured you might think I meant for you to buy them, especially when I didn’t clarify that the celebration I was talking about was your graduation, not my birthday… sorry about that, kid.”

“No, I-- I shouldn’t have assumed,” Peter replies earnestly, adding with a small smile, “that’s pretty cool though, us getting each other the same present.”

Tony chuckles fondly. “Guess that means it really is the best present possible-- well, besides the fact that you’re okay. Gave me quite a scare, seeing that alert from FRIDAY just as the party was getting going.”

Before Peter can apologize again, Tony leans over conspiratorially. “So, I think Helen and the nurses are all upstairs right now-- you want a piece of cake? Joan would never let me get away with bringing this in were it not for it being my birthday, so this might be your one and only chance to indulge in some tasty contraband. Bundt Naked makes the best baked goods in all of New York City.”

Peter laughs. “Sure, pass it over. And we’ll see if you still say that when you try the donuts they have at Citi Field.”

Tony hands over a slice, before picking up his own, smiling at Peter as he remarks, “Looking forward to it, Pete.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos & comments are always appreciated. Come hang out with us on tumblr: [blondsak](https://blondsak.tumblr.com) and  
> [seekrest](https://seek-rest.tumblr.com).


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